Noen threw his hands up in surrender and slowly stood back up, his eyes locked on the madman in front of him.
–He knows my name too… –
Khezar laughed maniacally, the sound piercing and completely unhinged. "Should I pull the trigger, Noen? Should I?" He pressed the cold metal barrel even harder into the center of Noen's forehead, forcing his head back.
Noen just opened his mouth to speak, but before he could form a single word—
"OOPS, too late." Khezar pulled the trigger.
Noen squeezed his eyes shut, his entire body bracing for the violent end. CLICK! Noen opened his eyes, his heart hammering violently against his ribs. The gun… wasn't loaded.
Khezar tucked the weapon back beneath his robes, bursting into uncontrollable laughter. "As if I would operate a firearm myself…" He disgustedly wiped his gloved hands on Noen's crisp green uniform. "Don't worry, I won't just kill you like that."
Noen let out a shaky breath, the terrifying tension leaving his body in a rush.
"You're already punished enough with your system!" Khezar mocked, breaking into a high-pitched, childish giggle again. He turned his attention away from Noen and looked down at the dirt. "You! Leader! Rise!"
Ben, who had kept his face near the ground, slowly pushed himself up, keeping his massive frame submissively hunched.
Khezar reached out and grabbed him by the cheek once again, his grip condescending and tight. "Just make sure this Zero stands as far back as possible during the inspection, okay?"
Ben bowed his head immediately, a thin stream of blood trailing down from his bruised forehead.
From a distance, one of the other two robed figures shouted across the open ground, "Come, brother! We need to get ready too!"
Khezar let go of Ben's face. He turned around, but not before hawking and spitting a glob of saliva directly onto Ben's heavy military boots. With a final, sickening sneer, he slowly strolled off toward the other two figures, disappearing into the distance.
"Lucky again," Ben whispered, wiping the thin trail of blood from his forehead.
"What the hell was that? He almost k—"
Ben immediately clamped his large hand tightly over Noen's mouth. "SHH! If they hear you say that, you really are done for."
Noen stopped talking instantly, and Ben slowly released his grip. Lowering his voice to a tense whisper, Noen asked, "Can someone please explain to me what is actually going on here?"
Ben let out a heavy breath, his broad shoulders slumping slightly. "We don't know much either. We're just as new here as you are. The only difference is that you, Noen, were unconscious for a lot longer." He paused. "For you, all of this… is probably even more confusing."
Noen nodded slowly. "So?"
"So, I can tell you what I and my people here know." He glanced over his shoulder at the soldiers standing rigidly in formation behind them, who all gave a synchronized, silent nod of agreement. Ben kept his voice low, his eyes scanning their surroundings. "All of us here are from small villages. You probably come from one too, even if you don't look like it. Between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, you get abducted and locked up inside Nahalith, the Holy Sandcat. None of us have any idea who exactly is behind it. We all just felt hands grabbing us in the dark."
Noen nodded slowly, the chilling memory of the alleyway flashing through his mind. "So there are several of these Sandcats?"
"No," Ben answered, his gaze still carefully locked onto the three robed figures lingering on the horizon. "It flies from one city to the next, which suggests that the cities aren't actually that far apart, even if it moves incredibly fast." He wiped another streak of blood from his bruised forehead. "The prison inside it is massive. You stay in there until a spot opens up in one of the training camps. There are several of those."
Noen muttered to himself, barely audible, "Nura…" But she seemed older than that back then. Besides, she knew that having low stats was an advantage because it meant you wouldn't take as long to reach your stat cap… She must have already been there. Pushing the thought aside for now, Noen looked back up at the large squad leader. "But what if someone… tries to fight back or something? They also get imprisoned, right?"
"I don't know for sure," Ben replied quietly, adjusting his collar. "But I can certainly imagine it."
Noen remained silent for a moment, letting the heavy information sink in.
Ben, meanwhile, continued explaining. "Then comes the training camp. There, it purely depends on how high your stat cap is. The higher it is, the longer you need." Ben turned around and looked at the dozens of young men and women standing rigidly in formation behind them. He turned back to face Noen, his expression grim. "I, for example, was in the training camp for almost eight years."
Noen's jaw dropped. "Eight? What rank are you?"
"S."
Noen swallowed hard, staring up at the massive man in a completely new light.
"Most of the people here are between E and C," Ben added, gesturing vaguely toward the squad, "which still often means years of hell."
Noen looked at him, completely bewildered. "You are so strong, but you still don't want to fight back?"
Ben shrugged his massive shoulders.
Noen exhaled deeply. "And after the training? I guess the same thing happened as with me…"
"…Two soldiers take you with them, and once they are out of range of the training camp, they knock you out cold again," Ben finished for him. "Exactly. We then all woke up one after another in a large hall, where we were allowed to wash properly for the first time in years. We got these clothes and instructions for what's happening here now. We had to appoint a leader. None of us knew what exactly that meant, but I eventually volunteered. Then we were told we had to leave soon, but you still hadn't woken up. So we washed you, dressed you, and put you in the chopper. That's where you finally came to."
Noen instantly turned bright red. "W-Washed me?" But he quickly shook his head, pushing the embarrassing thought aside to focus on the more pressing issue. "And what exactly… were those instructions?"